Knock Before You Enter

by D. A. Bale

  “Of course.”

  Charlotte intruded on the conversation. “Are you fully prepared to manage everything needed, Marcel? A job of such magnitude requires precision and proper staff instruction. After all, this will be your first De’Laruse soirée without your father’s guidance and oversight.”

  Marcel controlled his irritation rather well, with only a twinge of one eye. I’d have given Charlotte a good old-fashioned frown.

  “He taught me well, ma’am.”

  “Be certain they understand they are not to venture beyond the first floor,” Charlotte continued. “Preferably keeping to the ballroom, kitchen, and the back hallway. We can’t risk sticky fingers with all the family heirlooms on display.”

  “Because Charlotte wants to ensure she gets every single one after I die,” Addie finished for her daughter with a scowl before addressing Marcel again. “Thank you, Marcel. I will be pleased to see you and your staff Friday at one.”

  After beating back her daughter’s desire to confiscate the De’Laruse antiquities, Addie addressed Janine. “How was your day on the lake, my dawlin’? Headache appears to be gone, so did you accomplish any reading?”

  I just figured out where Janine inherited her lack of subtlety. Addie’s tone piqued George’s interest a little too much.

  “Reading? With a headache? On a rocking boat?”

  “Yes, Grandma-ma,” Janine responded, ignoring George’s quip of questions. “We had a nice time reading. Very interesting reading too.”

  I shook my head and buried my forehead against the palm of my hand. A familiar gravelly voice from behind brought it snapping up again.

  “Little black books like this?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucas held the Bonafeld diary in his hand. Nausea swirled in my gut alongside a chaser of all-out interest. The guy made the navy suit jacket and khaki slacks look fine – mighty fine, with emphasis on the mighty. The narrow waist made his shoulders appear all the bigger with the bit of padding squaring off the jacket. I wondered for a moment what else it might make look bigger.

  Oh yeah – the book.

  Janine shot to her feet and almost tipped the chair right into our unexpected guest as she took possession of the now tattered-looking tome. Instead of just the cracked cover, the spine had developed a nasty gash which had loosened some of the pages. The sick sensation returned and kicked into overdrive.

  “How did…?” Janine asked.

  “Where did…?” I overlapped.

  “I discovered it flappin’ in the breeze alongside the sidewalk leadin’ from the docks,” Lucas explained. “I recognized it from when we ran into each other on the lake earlier.”

  Janine’s eyes reddened, and she looked about ready to cry. Addie looked about ready to strangle someone from the press of her lips – and I didn’t think they could get any thinner. Boy, did she prove me wrong.

  “Is it intact?” Addie barked.

  “Let me see that,” George demanded, reaching for the journal just as Janine snatched it away from his fingertips.

  For a second I thought she was going to stuff the thing down the front of her dress to hide it in her bra. Looks like she’d finally learned something from me about that other use for undergarments I mentioned earlier.

  Or not.

  Charlotte hissed, “Janine, let your brother have a look.”

  “But I…”

  Addie stood with all the ceremony a nearly ninety year-old could muster, her tone threatening to shatter the crystal chandelier and bring it crashing onto the parquet dance floor. “Bring it here at once.”

  Everyone froze for a half second until my bestie tucked her chin and obediently scurried around the table to hand it over to her grandmother. We returned to our seats in unison to pick at our shrimp cakes while Addie eyed the diary’s savior.

  “Thank you, Mr…?”

  Lucas almost bowed as he addressed Addie. Was that a smirk coloring the edges of his mouth? The dog.

  “Monette. Lucas Monette, ma’am.”

  “Monette?” Charlotte’s voice rose about two octaves as she scented wealth and went on the husband hunt for her daughter. “As in the Chalmette Monettes?

  “Yes, ma’am, though we’ve resided closer to family in Baton Rouge since Katrina.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him as he tossed a self-satisfied glance my way. Fine. Maybe I was wrong about him faking a Louisiana accent, but I was still willing to bet my shoe collection that he was FBI or with some other law enforcement agency. Since Charlotte knew the family name, it was a good bet he came from money, which explained the labels he wore.

  Charlotte signaled Marcel to bring another chair to our table. “What brings you from Baton Rouge to the North Shore, Mr. Monette?”

  Janine cast a pained gawp my way as her mother directed Marcel to place the chair right between us. Mrs. De’Laruse-the-Younger didn’t even bat an eye when Lucas ordered a glass of chardonnay.

  Lucky bastard.

  Before the night was out there was about a ninety-nine percent chance Charlotte would extend an invitation for Saturday’s birthday bash to the handsome hunk – probably with hopes they could announce impending nuptials by the end of the evening. Hey, at least the issue with the book was forgotten amid all of her fawning and fluttering over the guy.

  “I had the pleasure of again runnin’ into these lovely ladies sunnin’ on the lake today after an…,” he said with a brow waggle our way, “…adventurous evenin’.”

  Janine’s groan was audible. The headache had probably made a disconcerting reemergence.

  Lucas took Janine’s hand. “Miss De’Laruse was kind enough to offer an invitation for dinner.”

  “How fortunate you accepted,” Charlotte consented.

  The kiss he placed on Janine’s hand sent waves of crimson crashing across her face like a woman in the throes of menopause – or in heat. Personally, I thought Lucas stretched the dinner invitation thing a little too far. Or a lot.

  He continued, “Yes, and fortunate too because who knows what some other scoundrel would’ve done with her little black book.”

  I so wanted to pinch him right about now – and not in the fun way.

  “Yeah,” George said, picking up the subject again like a dog scenting a bitch in heat. “What is that book about anyway, Grandma-ma?”

  “Never you mind. It’s something I gave to your sister, not you,” Addie responded.

  “Can I at least see it?”

  “No, you may not.”

  “Mother, why ever not?” Charlotte asked.

  “Because he isn’t trained to handle important and old documents like my granddaughter is,” Addie replied.

  George snorted. “Like your granddaughter who left it lying on the docks where it could’ve ended up falling into the lake and being lost forever?”

  “Actually, it was cushioned by the grass along the sidewalk,” Lucas corrected.

  “But you said it was near the docks too,” George countered. “Which means it still could’ve ended up at least getting wet and damaged further.”

  “But thank God it didn’t, and I was the one there to rescue it before ruination.”

  Okay, this guy’s clout with me edge up slightly, if only for standing up for my best friend against her brother’s attempt to rewrite the circumstances like a journalist with an agenda.

  “Thank you again for doing so,” Janine said. “We were running behind schedule, and it must’ve slipped out of my cover-up pocket when we were running.”

  “And I’m grateful as well, Mr. Monette,” Addie said before slapping George’s hand away from the book.

  At least George’s hands were busy with something other than trying to cop a feel my way. But I still felt bad about almost losing the journal. And now it wasn’t just Addie’s secret between Janine and me.

  I had a very distinct impression that might just come back and bite us in the butt.

  ***

  By the time we returned to Heaven’s Gate, I w
as ready to crawl into bed – and it wasn’t even ten yet. Between the lack of sleep the night before – okay, my fault – the raucous awakening – not my fault – and the rollercoaster of emotions during the afternoon and evening, of which I’m ill-qualified to handle, I wanted to curl up with my critter and sleep for a week to recover.

  I searched under the bed. No Slinky. The closet. No crying kitty waiting to be released. Same in Janine’s room, and no one behind the shower curtain. Wait a minute – the bathroom vanity cabinets. If there’s one thing Slink is famous for, it’s crouching in the cupboards.

  Nothing – not even after I crawled half-inside with a flashlight.

  “What in the world are you doing?” Janine asked.

  I popped out and shined the light in her face. “Have you seen Slinky?”

  Worry reflected immediately in her eyes. If there’s one person who loves my critter more than me, it’s my best friend. She headed into my room and did a thorough search in my previous footsteps.

  “Slinky?” she called.

  No answering meow. My heart ticked up a bit faster. “Sibby must’ve left one of the doors open when she cleaned.”

  Yeah, that’s what happened. My little ball of fluff was just running around this great big mansion, stretching his paws and scoping out the place for mice.

  “Oh gosh. There’s a door open alright.”

  The veranda door in my bedroom swung open farther to reveal the screen door. The unlocked screen door, flapping with every wind gust. My heart stopped and my stomach flip-flopped as I raced outside and did a scan of the empty surrounds.

  “Slinky!” I cried, imagining gators in place of mice. Big gators. Hungry gators. My sweet baby kitty the huntee instead of the hunter.

  I was gonna be sick. For more than two years, he’d been a lazy house cat. Ball-less and clawless. He’d never survive in the wild on his own. All alone. Without me.

  “Here, kitty-kitty,” Janine sing-songed from behind, her voice striking a balance between concern and calm. Like I needed to do.

  I took a deep breath and tried again. “Where’s Mama’s precious little kitty? Where’s my angel? Slinky’s gonna get a special treat if you come out of your hiding place.”

  Janine just stared, biting her lip to hide the grin I knew was under there somewhere. I didn’t care how silly it sounded, damnit. I just wanted my baby back safe and sound.

  “Slink?” I squeaked, tears rising closer to the surface.

  “Me-r-row!”

  No sound is more precious to a mother than the cry of her child’s voice. Um, her baby’s. Er, furry feline’s voice.

  Oh, what the hell. I was a sucker for that fuzzy face and didn’t care who all knew it.

  Janine pointed to a nearby tree with branches hanging down toward the veranda railing. “There…I think I saw the flash of his eyes.”

  I shone the light into the tree and caught a familiar face in its beam. “Meow!”

  “How’d you get up there?” I asked, stretching to grab the limb and tug it down.

  “He must’ve climbed the railing and jumped up there.”

  “But he doesn’t have claws,” I wondered aloud. “Come here, baby. Come to Mama. Mama will help you down.”

  Slowly he inched his way along the limb, intermittently crying out while I coaxed until with a final hop, skip, and jump, he landed in my waiting arms. We didn’t waste any time getting the crazy critter back inside to safety and firmly latching the screen door.

  Inside – where my heartrate slowed to non-stroke levels as I buried my face in my feline’s fur. Inside – where I had the chance to reflect on circumstances for all of five seconds. When the realization of how it all happened sent my blood boiling.

  I tucked Slinky securely in Janine’s arms. “I’ll be right back,” I growled.

  Careful to secure the bedroom door, I marched up and down the hallways leading to the master suite, my blood soaring well past the boiling point. To hell if George and Sibby were doing their business. Most men’s brains shut off when the blood flow moved south faster than Sherman, and I hadn’t met a man yet who ever allowed racial tensions to stop them from releasing their sexual tensions on a willing body.

  And right then I was a woman on a mission – and wouldn’t be stopped by anything or anyone.

  The door slammed against the wall as I swept into the room and interrupted before the two started their tango. “Get out!” I commanded Sibby.

  “What do you…,” George started while Sibby slipped past me and shut the door.

  “How dare you endanger my cat, George De’Laruse!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he returned with a smirk. “I didn’t lay a finger on that fleabag.”

  “You didn’t have to touch him.” Thank God. “All you had to do was unlock the screen door leading to the veranda.”

  The smirk turned into a full-scale grin he attempted to cover as he set about picking at his manicured nails. “Payback can be a real bitch, you know.”

  “What payback?” I thundered.

  “I may’ve been passed out this morning, but I know it was you who gave me this shiner.”

  Maurice and his big mouth. And they thought women were the gossips. Damn men.

  “Want another one?”

  “Threaten me all you want, Vicki, but I still didn’t touch your cat.”

  It only took two steps toward him for his eyes to widen in fear – and right then I wasn’t above playing mean and dirty. “Use all the verbal gymnastics you want, but let me be perfectly clear.” I took two more steps forward and he took one back as my vision narrowed and my voice lowered to just above seething. “If you so much as set one foot or any other body part through mine or Janine’s bedroom doors, touch our doors, doorknobs, or better yet even think about entering or even breathing down our hallway for the remainder of this week, I will personally hogtie and castrate you in ten seconds flat before serving your fried oysters to your mother on a silver platter, thereby earning you a lifetime seat in the soprano section of the Vienna Boys Choir. Do you hear me?”

  Ladies, is there anything more satisfying than seeing your efforts reflected across the front of a man’s trousers?

  And no, I’m not talking about a stiff one. More along the lines of a spreading dark spot with a scent of ammonia.

  Ah, the sweet scent of victory.

  ***

  Slinky walked back and forth in front of me on the bed as I brushed him, oblivious to the danger I’d rescued him from. From which I’d rescued him.

  Aw, forget it.

  Fur floated into Janine’s face from the steady breeze through the window screen. No more open doors in this room, no siree. Once she finished spitting and spatting, Janine moved to the other side of my bed to avoid a direct frontal assault from the flying fur war.

  “You’re gonna make a wonderful mother someday,” Janine taunted. “The way you coaxed Slinky from the tree…the concern you had for your wittle babykins…it was so adorable.”

  I shrugged and grumbled, unable to consider such prospects while still feeling the motherly instincts toward my critter that were guaranteed to keep me up half the night. Save that contemplation for another day.

  In her great wisdom, Janine changed the subject. “Do you think Grandma-ma will let us have the book back to continue the search?” she asked.

  That unfroze my tongue. “Now that George and half the population of the North Shore know about it? Doubtful,” I surmised.

  Janine harrumphed. “And just when things were getting interesting. Big oak trees. A house or building maybe? The water clue?”

  “The fleur-de-lis imprint?”

  This time she offered up a sigh as she laid back and stared into the bed canopy. “After all these years, I’d convinced myself it was just another embellished Civil War story my grandfather told us. Now knowing the gold is real…or was…I want to be the one to find out what happened to it once and for all.”

  “That’s not going t
o be easy to do without the journal.”

  “But still.” Janine closed her eyes and smiled. “Can you imagine what it was like to wear those beautiful gowns with gigantic hooped skirts? To hear the swish of the silks, satins, and all that lace as you danced with handsome men at a ball?”

  “Yeah,” I snorted. “Piled on with layer after layer of fabric and crinoline in a closed room with too many bodies squished together and expected not to glisten in a thousand percent humidity with no air-conditioning? Sounds like loads of fun.”

  “Well, not when you put it that way.”

  With all the ministrations, Slink purred up a storm and looked up at me in contentment. “Meow.”

  My heart melted.

  “Trust me, Janine. The past wasn’t all grand beauties and soft bunnies when the average life-span was thirty-five. Imagine your mother’s desire to marry you off times a hundred. Back then, you’d have had no chance of getting an education except in Mannerly Matrimonial Management and Genteel Juvenile-Birthing.”

  “And they married off at sixteen.”

  “Think about it a sec. We’d be celebrating ten years of marriage or already put out to pasture at our age.”

  Our laughter stopped the moment my bedroom door flew open with nary a knock and sent Slinky scurrying under the bed. Mom’s green eyes shown with controlled anger and made me feel like I was sixteen again. Great, she must’ve heard about the evening’s antics.

  “Janine,” Mom started, “would you excuse us for a moment?”

  “Certainly, Mrs. Bohanan,” Janine said with a worried glance my way before shutting the adjoining bathroom door on her way to her room.

  “Evening, Mom,” I said, trying to coax Slinky from hiding again. “What’s up?”

  “Do you mind telling me what’s gotten into you today?”

  The day offered so much to choose from, I figured it best not to offer up anything in the event she hadn’t been brought up to speed. “Um…you’ll have to be a little more specific.”

  “How about being disrespectful of Charlotte at lunch for starters? Then that whole thing with George and that book tonight? You’ve been very rude to our hosts all-around today.”